This Billionaire's Single Mom: This Billionaire, #1

By Rachel Foster

Phillip is a successful business owner running a huge hotel enterprise. When a hurricane forces him to leave his home, he takes shelter in one of his hotels until his house can be fixed. Fresh out of a nasty divorce, losing his home feels like the cherry on top of his disgusting cake. Until he meets Bree. You think he'd know the employees at his hotels, but he has never taken the time to. She's a single mom working to support her and her son Paxton. The hotel gig barely pays the bills after she has to pay for daycare, but she will do whatever it takes to make it. Now she's falling for a mega billionaire who has a completely different life than her. Will she be able to convince him there should be changes around the hotel or will she send him packing? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: 3rd Publishing
• Release date: Mar 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215006696

Book preview

This Billionaire's Single mom

Rachel Foster

Copyright © 2018 by Rachel Foster

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Epilogue

1

P

hillip

I crossed my arms over my chest as I stood in front of the flat-screen television that took up part of the wall across from my desk. My muscles were tense, frozen, as I listened intently to the weather reporter outline a path of the tropical storm that was due to hit the coast of Florida in the next couple of days.

I blew out a breath as I turned to glance out the expansive window behind me. Shops lined the streets all around the hotel, the sun baking heat into the sidewalk as it often did in the Sunshine State. Tourists and locals alike strolled between shops with not a drop of rain in the sky. But that was Florida for you. Thunderstorms came and went without any warning.

And it seemed this tropical storm was about to surprise us, despite the warning.

A quick glance around my spacious office revealed all the modern furnishings of a guy who owned a chain of hotels. A long, low bookshelf sat beneath the window that harbored a collection of fantasy novels as well as business practices that any practical professional might own. To the right sat a row of file cabinets, the polished metal looking as clean as the day I installed them myself. My oak desk, polished to perfection and reflecting the midday sun on its shiny surface, hosted a Mac computer, several unopened files, and mail that had piled up from this morning.

To the left of my desk was a modest collection of plants along with a counter with a sink, a coffee maker, and a drawer that harbored my best whiskey for late nights spent over paperwork. There was a bottle of scotch, too, but that was for Barry.

Unbelievable, said the man who preferred scotch. I looked at him, his dark brown hair graying at the sides the way it might in a college professor and his trimmed beard thick with curly brown hair that hosted a few grays. It was spreading on the man. But it made him look intelligent. Guess the Atlantic decided to spring this one on us.

You knew it was coming, Barry.

It always does, but not this late in the season.

I shrugged. That’s Florida. Where are you going to stay if it hits the area?

I have some family up in Georgia.

Bob and Dean?

He nodded. Yep, they’ve got a cute little house near downtown, close to the bars. They’re always performing these days.

Ah, the life of an artist.

If only things were that simple here.

I shrugged. We’re in the hotel business. It’s a different kind of performance.

I figure I’ll go up there soon and just bunker down. Hopefully, it doesn’t try to climb up the coast.

It always does.

He sighed as he adjusted his navy blue cardigan. He looked so much more like a college professor than my assistant, but his semi-casual professional appearance seemed to encourage people to talk to him. He was good at his job, and he had a rare skill of being able to put out fires quickly, quietly, and effectively. I don’t know what I would do without him here.

If you don’t feel like staying with the queens, you can always come up to the hotel in Tennessee with me. I’m probably going up there.

I might take you up on that, Barry said. That depends on how bad it gets down here.

It’s probably going to slam through Georgia, too.

It’ll probably turn into a hurricane.

I chuckled as I scooted back and knocked three times on my desk. Hey, don’t say that too loud. We have hotels down here, buddy.

We knew what we were doing when we set up shop in Florida.

Yeah, that’s true. Everyone vacations here. It’s just the best place for us to be.

He nodded. Keep me posted on the weather, okay? I’m going to check up front.

Sure thing, man.

I watched him leave my office, the glass door wheezing shut in such a low whisper that it could have become part of the television white noise. I studied the flat screen, going over the projected path of the tropical storm repeatedly while trying to come up with a plan.

Everyone here will have to relocate as well, I thought with a huff. Which is just a management nightmare.

I shook my head as I rounded my desk and sat down. I caught my reflection in the computer screen, noticing how shaggy my hair had gotten around the sides and back. It was still mostly professional, the dark curls accentuating my creamy peach skin and framing my angular face. I wiggled my bulbous nose briefly as I considered whether or not to get a haircut before or after the tropical storm. I had some other things to handle first.

And that meant I had to dive right into work, hair be damned.

break-section-side-screen.png

AFTER SPENDING THE rest of the day handling tropical storm procedures, I returned home to my one-story glass house in a posh Orlando neighborhood. The wind outside had picked up a bit, but there were no clouds in sight, the darkened sight much like a blanket with holes punched in it. I shut off the alarm system and kicked off my wingtips, shoving them aside next to the three pairs that already sat on the mat in the foyer.

Spanish tile greeted the bottoms of my feet and felt cool, welcoming as I padded my way through the den and into the kitchen. Strong whiskey was needed for the days ahead while I managed the hotel and tried to figure out what to do with myself. I had been through plenty of Florida summers with hurricanes. I had survived every one. And so had my house.

As soon as I had a drink in hand, I loosened my tie, groaning when I heard the familiar ringtone echoing from my pocket. I pulled out my phone and frowned forcefully at the screen.

Lexi, I growled as I accepted the call. I cleared my throat, took a sip of the sharp liquid in my tumbler, and said in a professional voice, This is Phillip.

You know who I am. I don’t know why you do that every time.

I rolled my eyes, flexed my right arm and pressed the phone deeper into my ear. What do you want, Lexi?

Are you ever going to return my bag that I left there?

What bag?

She huffed. Don’t be obtuse.

I sipped my whiskey, biding my time on the phone with my ex-wife. If she wanted to call and interrupt my life, then I would make it ever the more difficult every time she did it. Oh, that bag.

"Yes, that bag. When can I have it?"

It’s at the house whenever you want to pick it up.

I could already see her lips pinching together in a sour expression, the usual pale honey of her skin flaring red in her cheeks and neck. She was annoyed. And I knew just how to get her that way, too.

Unfortunately, she knew the very same buttons for me. I refuse to go down to Florida.

Well, I can’t help you there.

I don’t see why you can’t just send it to me.

I sighed as I set the tumbler on the counter, listening to the ice inside clack together and tink lightly against the glass. We’ve been through this, Lexi. I don’t have the time.

You had all the time in the world to divorce me.

Yeah, I couldn’t do that fast enough.

She laughed dryly. The feeling is mutual, sweetheart.

"Anyway, I’m too busy. Like I said the last time you called."

I know that isn’t true. You don’t do anything. You don’t go anywhere. You don’t have a social life. Did you forget I used to live with you?

I snorted. Yeah, haven’t been able to scrub that peach perfume out of the bed for a few weeks now. Did you douse the mattress in it?

Maybe I did.

I can’t help you when you’re being childish, Alexis.

She huffed and said, This is exactly why I had to leave, Phillip. You’re impossible to reason with. You’re lazy. You don’t ever do anything except hole yourself up in that hotel and ignore the rest of the world. It’s a wonder people don’t like being around you.

I let her drone on, going over the seemingly endless list of reasons why I wasn’t worth being a husband to her. And it never involved being good enough for anyone else. It was always just her, as if my entire existence wrapped around her living and breathing. She always had a way of making me feel like crap.

She was doing a fine job of that right this second.

I tuned her out as I lifted my tumbler and took a long gulp. Ice cubes burned my top lip, one of them getting stuck to the skin and causing me to curse. When the ordeal had passed, I poured more whiskey into the tumbler, feeling my stomach croak angrily at the fact that I hadn’t eaten since early this morning. I didn’t care. This was how I handled Lexi.

And it worked every time.

Are you even listening to me? she demanded. Give me my bag back, Phillip.

Come and get it, you lazy b—

"Ugh, you’re impossible."

The line disconnected. I set my phone on the counter and glanced across the den, looking into the entryway of the house where a black bag and hoodie sat near my work shoes. I hadn’t even seen it when I walked in. It had become part of the foyer, the tile swallowing it up like it did everything that I left on the floor and didn’t bother picking back up. Maybe I was lazy. Maybe she was right about that.

I licked my lips, lifted my tumbler, and wandered casually into the den. I took the steps into the living area that was flanked by dark green couches, the carpet softening under my feet and making me feel right at home.

Right at home, I thought. Where I’m alone most of the time.

The wind picked up outside. I turned to the glass doors leading to the concrete porch outside that opened up into an evergreen yard marked with palm trees. A pool sparkled in the center, its blue light echoing across the yard and into the den where I stood staring at it. The crystal clear water invited me to it, but the thunder above warned me against going outside anytime soon.

I turned back to the bag.

I don’t know why I don’t take the time to send it, I said to the empty house. If I do that, then she’ll stop bothering me.

And only the universe knew how much I wanted Lexi to stop bothering me.

2

B

ree

Light danced across the polished marble floors leading to the reception desk. People flowed through the revolving doors, carrying suitcases, bags, babies, and dogs, every family looking just as exhausted as the last, but with a hint of relief. They were probably happy to arrive at their destination.

The weekend was shaping up to be particularly busy. It always was this time of year in Nashville. Bag helpers rolled trolleys along the marble, the wheels whistling in some places and quiet in others. Wide rugs decorated the waiting area that housed multiple comfy couches, chairs, and love seats, all of them matching the crimson red wallpaper and the red brick of the fireplace.

Of course, it was a fake fireplace. It didn’t have a chimney. The heater inside worked well in winter and warmed the area to a fine temperature, inviting people to snuggle up on the couches while they waited for their rides. A collection of individuals walked up to the desk purposefully, some of them staring up at the vaulted gold ceilings and the wallpaper that climbed seemingly forever.

I greeted each visitor with a sunny grin, applying my usual Nashville charm to even the most grumpy-looking customers. After checking in a few people, I turned to the woman who had sidled up to the counter wearing a black and white outfit that looked a lot like scrubs. She wore an apron around her waist and her auburn brown hair was done up in a bun with straight bangs curving over her forehead.

Her hazel-brown eyes sparkled as she said, Morning, Bree.

Hi, Samantha, I greeted cheerily. I leaned over the counter and asked in a lower voice, When is that storm moving?

Looks like it’s toward the end of the week.

I sighed and shrugged. With all these people, you’d think it was about to hit today.

It’s that time of year.

It seems to be. We always get busy, but this is a lot more than usual.

I turned my sunny grin to an elderly couple who was approaching the counter. I checked them in, gave them their keys, and wished them a great day, watching them shuffle off toward the elevator.

I turned back to Samantha. How’s everything going today?

Well, I haven’t had to clean up any puke, so it seems to be a good day so far.

Bless you for being able to handle being the maid.

She chuckled and planted her hands on her curvy hips. Well, somebody has to do it, right?

You’re very good at it.

There’s no room I can’t handle.

I nodded. Exactly. It’s more than I could ever do.

But you’re up here handling all the clients.

That’s what a manger does.

She grinned. Well, you’re pretty good at it, Bree.

Aw, thanks, honey.

Are you doing anything tonight?

I shook my head. You know I can’t afford to do much.

You have to go out sometime.

She slid behind the desk and went to the back where the cabinets were stocked full of extra care items. She grabbed some things and took them to her cart that she had parked next to the counter.

I know, I said with a sigh. But Paxton has been extra needy lately. And— I glanced around to make sure nobody was nearby to hear me say in a low voice, He keeps asking about his dad.

Is that deadbeat still not answering your calls?

He’s just weird about Paxton.

She shook her head. You should have never told him you were pregnant.

Well, I couldn’t have anticipated this mess.

He’s hardly ever around. And when he is around, he just causes all sorts of trouble for everyone.

I nodded sullenly. Ryan has anger issues. He always had them.

What did you ever see in that guy?

Believe it or not, he was a romantic guy at the beginning.

She sighed. That’s how they always start. They’re great at first and then they show their true colors.

Yeah, he hid the anger for a while. He never hurt me or Paxton, but he definitely liked throwing things around. I can’t tell you how many times the living room was a mess after work.

I’m glad you’re not dating him anymore.

I smiled weakly. Me, too. I just wish I could find someone else. I shook my head and laughed lightly. Like I have the time for that with this job and my son.

Hey, you’ll get there someday. You can’t work here forever.

But maybe I will work here forever, I thought grimly. And I’ll never meet anyone who isn’t a guest.

I fixed a smile on my lips and said, Everything will be okay. I’ll pick up Paxton later and we’ll grab pizza on the way home.

That sounds like a wonderful idea. I might join you.

We’d love that.

She grinned and waved, maneuvering her cart toward the hallway to the left of the front counter. Just beyond that hallway was the service elevators for all the staff. It helped reduce traffic in the main elevators for the guests.

I’m heading up to floor three, she announced over her shoulder. See you later!

Once she was gone, the lobby grew quiet, granting me a moment of peace. I heard a few staff members in the offices behind the counter. I went to check in with them, making sure all of our guests were happy with their rooms. I did a few more tasks on the computer in the back, checked the lobby again, and then headed for the break room. I needed five minutes to myself. Just five minutes.

My break didn’t make it to the four-minute marker. I was called back to the front to handle a disgruntled customer who had a miscommunication with one of the staff members. I resolved the issue easily and smoothly, offering complimentary items to soothe the customer. When that was finished, I received a phone call in the office in the back, drawing my attention away from the growing line up front. I left my two best staff members in charge of check-ins and went to the answer the phone call.

One of my evening workers called out. I sighed as I logged it into the system, being sure to check how many times they recently ditched work. Another worker called out about ten minutes later which shifted the schedule significantly, leaving very few people to work the front for the evening.

I rubbed my temples as I sat in my desk chair with the fan whirling above my head. I listened to the blades rhythmically spin, focusing on the white noise of the sound to calm myself down. This happened more often than I could count. It wasn’t entirely the fault of the staff, considering they weren’t given a whole lot of options with their hours, but it made scheduling particularly difficult.

One person calling out could be handled easily. Two made a hurricane. And we already had a storm coming through the south that would send even more patrons our way. It would be hard to handle the load with just myself, so I tried to call a few people in. Either everyone was busy or they weren’t answering their phones.

Sighing, I slammed the receiver of the office phone down and stared at the screen, mulling over my options. I hated bringing Paxton to work, even though it seemed like he didn’t mind. I wanted him to spend time in other places that weren’t just my job or the babysitter’s house. He needed to be outside with kids his own age. He needed to go to amusement parks, museums, and movie theaters. He deserved that.

And I did, too.

I collected myself and put on my customer service grin as I returned to the front. I did my usual managerial duties and sent people home on time. When business died down again, I rushed out the door to pick up my son from Ariel.

Paxton darted from the couch as soon as I walked inside. I scooped him up into my arms, his skin smelling of the sun and dirt. I chuckled as he hugged me tight.

Mom! Mom! You know what? You know what happened today?

I set him on the ground and squatted beside him. What, sweetie?

Ariel and I found a bunch of lizards and we caught some.

That sounds like...fun, I said while trying to control the cringe on my face. I didn’t like reptiles or amphibians, but my son found them to be the most interesting creatures in the world. It was just my luck. What did you do with them?

We made sure to be nice to them and put them back where they belonged, Ariel replied as she approached. She grinned wide as she asked, How was work, Miss Bree?

Oh, well... I trailed off, feeling awful about taking my son directly back to work with me. I mean, the day isn’t quite over yet.

Yet?

Yeah, we just have to head back for a few things.

She nodded. Don’t work too hard, Miss Bree.

I pulled a few bills from my purse and handed them over. Thanks, Ariel. We’ll see you again tomorrow.

Bye, Miss Ariel! Paxton shouted as he marched to the door. See you later!

I laughed as I followed my son to the car. When he was safely tucked in the backseat, I drove back to the hotel where I parked in my usual spot. Paxton sighed audibly from the back.

I’m sorry, bug, I told him. Mommy just needs to fill in for a couple of people. We have new coloring books you can try.

Okay, Mom.

He sounded so disappointed, and I hated that I had to make him come to work with me. Once we were settled inside, he grabbed a coloring book and a box of crayons from my desk, settling into my chair next to the computer. I smiled and kissed his head. I’ll order a pizza.

As soon as I got back up front, I knew the pizza would have to wait a few minutes. I helped a couple of clients, answered the phones, and bounced around behind the desk like I had ants in my pants. By the time I ordered the pizza, I was getting a hunger headache. The wheels of a cart squealed from the left and I turned to see Samantha wandering up to the desk.

Honey, what are you still doing here?

I sighed, feeling my eyes puff up slightly from stress. A couple of people called out, so I’m filling in for them.

Where’s Paxton?

He’s in my office with a coloring book.

She nodded. What about his tablet?

Gee, I didn’t think of that. I think it’s still at home or it’s with Ariel. Shoot, I can’t even remember.

Do you have games on your computer?

I nodded. I have a few.

She leaned her elbows against the counter and lowered her voice to a whisper, saying, I feel so bad that you don’t get to take care of him properly.

Well, that’s the demands of this job.

Have you thought about talking to the boss about it? I mean, you always get left picking up after everyone.

I shrugged. I’m good at what I do. The clients all seem to prefer me.

But there has to be other people who can fill in for you, too. You need rest. You deserve time with your son.

Yeah, you’re right about that.

She gave me a warm grin and pointed to the back. I nodded. Samantha was one of my best friends and she got along so well with my son. She was practically his aunt. I heard him squeak excitedly when she disappeared into the back office and I laughed loudly, shaking my head as I shook the mouse of the computer to check for any emails. It was shaping up to be a long evening, but I hoped I didn’t have to stay too late.

I didn’t want my son thinking his whole life would be him coming to work with me.

3

P

hillip

Classic rock played in the background as I typed dutifully at my computer. My home office was a much sweeter setup than the one at the